


The Polip

by Bool_Ji



Category: Marvel
Genre: Anal Sex, Fucking Machines, M/M, Other, Tentacles, Voyeurism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-09-28
Updated: 2012-09-28
Packaged: 2017-11-15 05:24:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,093
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/523628
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bool_Ji/pseuds/Bool_Ji
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Of all the people to own a tentacle robot, it's probably Doom.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Polip

**Author's Note:**

> A fic I wrote for my boss (http://dantes-disco-inferno.tumblr.com/). Gratuitous porn.

The crash of breaking metal alerted Doom to the laboratory, but when he arrived, he was pleasantly surprised to see a lack of imminent disaster. No, this was much better. He made sure the cameras in his mask were rolling.

Stephen Strange was suspended off the floor by a multi-armed robot. Its tentacles bound his arms behind his back, while other tendrils snaked and coiled over his body. The robot’s holding cell had a huge hole in it, burst straight through steel.

“Stephen,” Doom said, letting amusement creep into his voice, “You shouldn’t touch what isn’t yours.”

“Look who’s talking,” Strange replied, struggling against the tentacles. They slithered under his clothes and he shivered at the sensation of cold metal. Realization widened his eyes. “Are you controlling this thing?”

“Somewhat. This is a _polip_ -class repair bot, used to fix hard-to-reach problems with the large-scale equipment. This one — _Polip_ 525, as it were — has developed a glitch in its systems that causes it to recognize human tissue as damaged machinery.” Doom shrugged, palms up. “Easily resolved, but in the meantime it has to be kept restrained, otherwise…”   

“Otherwise it starts feeling people up.” Stephen hissed in a breath as a smaller tentacle slid into his pants. “Hoary hosts—”

“It won’t hurt you, Stephen. It’s only looking to make repairs. How do you put it? It’s being _friendly_.”

“It’s only cute and cuddly until it thinks my navel is a missing screw and reaches for a twelve-inch steel bolt.”

“I will stop it before it makes that decision.”

A tentacle flexed, catching a fold of Stephen’s shirt in its joints. The sorcerer winced as it tore the cloth. “How about you stop it _now_?”

Doom grinned. The robot’s tendrils copied the exact motions of his fingers, reaching into Stephen’s waistband and wrenching down his pants. Strange was already rock hard. “Why would I do that? You’re clearly enjoying yourself.”

The blush that colored Stephen’s face earned him a low laugh. The sorcerer glared at him halfheartedly, the fight taken from him by the metal coils traversing his body. The victorious gleam in the king’s eyes was impossible to ignore.

A little tentacle tenderly stroked his cheek.

“It won’t perforate my intestines, right?”

“No.”

Stephen raised his arms over his head and the tendrils supported him. “Then do your worst, my evil genius.”

Doom chuckled, flexing his fingers. The robot’s limbs responded in kind, and Stephen let out a excited breath as they squeezed and relaxed around him.

“With pleasure.”

\- - -

One time Stephen had been fingered by Doom while the king still wore his gauntlets. They had been very careful, taking it slow and using lots of lubricant, the multiple segments and sharp edges of the armor threatening to do some serious harm. Stephen had nearly been driven mad by the experience, the absolutely glacial pace, the eventual success of the experiment.

This was even better.

There was no way this was a repair robot. This had to be another one of Doom’s crazy inventions designed specifically for the purpose of making him insane with pleasure. If he didn’t have a tentacle in his mouth, pressing down his throat, he would tell Victor that this was his best idea ever, to give up world domination and build sex machines for the rest of his life.

The look in the king’s eye meant he understood anyway. Stephen caught a glimpse of amusement in that pair of rust browns before the tentacle in his ass thrust in deep and his back arched in response, neck craning and a moan spilling around the metal in his mouth.

The tentacles were steel, but smooth and flexible, initially cold but warming against his skin. There were two holding his arms over his head, tangling in his hands and fingers. Two were rubbing against his chest — his shirt long been torn to shreds hanging from his body. The tips of the tentacles opened up, revealing smaller, more dextrous filaments that teased his nipples.

One tentacle was wrapped around his cock, those little tendrils toying with the tip. White droplets pulsed from the slit, moistening the tentacle as it coiled and flexed around him, providing him a tunnel to piston his hips into.

The tentacle in his ass forced him into it as it continued its ministrations. Once it had found Stephen’s prostate, it hadn’t left. More flexible than a cock, it was able to stimulate him differently, rubbing against the little gland hard, vibrating, twisting and curling inside him.

And directly below him, _Polip_ -525 had a single large eye staring up at him, gauging his reaction, keeping him on the razor edge.

Strange was pretty sure he was losing his mind. It felt so good. He opened his eyes.

Beneath him, Doom was in control of the robot, moving his hands as if conducting an obscene symphony. His perfect posture had lapsed, and his own eyes were shut.

Stephen remembered Doom had a technopathic link to his machines.

He was feeling this too.

The thought pushed him over the precipice, and Stephen came, shouting against the tentacle in his mouth. The coil in his ass pushed in deep and stiffened through his orgasm. The tendrils on his cock milked him for all he had, coaxing spurts and then drops from his erection.

_Polip_ -525 gently set him down when he was finished. Stephen panted for air, mind blank and fuzzy. Metal fingers stroked his cheek, bringing him back around, and the sorcerer smiled and let Doom lift him into his arms. The robot returned to its holding cell and curled in on itself, dormant.

“That was incredible,” Strange said, voice hoarse. Sleep wanted to come to him, but he batted it away as he reached for the king’s belt. “Let me take care of you, love.”

“You do not have to,” Doom replied.

“I want to. Let me—”

“No. It is…unnecessary.”

Stephen caught a glimmer of embarrassment in Victor’s eyes. Realization flashed through his tired brain. “Oh.” As the king shifted him more comfortably and made a beeline out of the lab, Strange changed the subject. “Don’t fix the robot. Leave it like that.”

“I take it you enjoyed the experience.”

“I can’t move. I loved it.”

Doom huffed a laugh. “Then we shall see about repairs. I would not want you to grow accustomed to this on a daily basis.”

Stephen groaned, curling up against the king. “I’d never walk again. Let’s save the polip for special occasions.”

“Very well. And Stephen?”

“Yes, dear?”

“Don’t touch my machines.”


End file.
